All this was hurriedly spoken, almost in a breath, for she heard a footstep upon the stair—it came nearer, they both looked to the door, it opened, and Beauclerc entered. Another moment, and he had lifted his weeping wife in his arms, blessing Lucy as he did so.
She waited but one minute longer—to see them together, and then she left them, and ran down stairs. The old butler was waiting anxiously.
"All is well," she said, as she flitted past him. He was going to ask further, but she was gone down the hill, and across the streets, and home, before she stopped to think, and then she went to the garret chamber to seek for Mabel. She found her sitting on her travelling trunk—with her habit on, but her hat laid at her side—thinking sadly, and seriously; but when she saw her, she looked up with ready interest.
"I have said all you told me, and something more," said Lucy, flinging her bonnet down, seating herself on the floor, and laying her head by her side, upon the box.
"Well, and what success did you meet with, my sweet Lucy?"
"Oh, it is all right between them now, for I met him going there, and told him to meet me when I had been with her one hour. He did, and so I am sure I left them happy."
"And are you not more happy yourself, dear Lucy?"
"Yes, I think I am—I hardly know—yes, I believe I am; but I am a new traveller in your track," she said, looking up with a smile.
"And every step is hard to take—I know it, darling, I know it," Mabel said, fondly smoothing the entangled ringlets of her light brown hair; "but you will go on—I know you will, for it leads to happiness at last."